


Slow Cheetah

by soullessfollower98



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M, Psychoteeth, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessfollower98/pseuds/soullessfollower98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's Mad King status gets to his head and he starts to notice some...changes. (Psychoteeth fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is named after the song Slow Cheetah by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. No idea why, but the sound of it just gave me the inspiration for this. Give it a listen, though. It's a great song. :)

_“King Ryan?”_

_“Yes, Gavin?”_

_“May I.. May I come in?”_

_Ryan lazily sat up, his bed creaking a little, and he now had a perfect view of the skinny British boy, half in his room, half out. He looked to be nervous, his lanky form quivering a little._

_But he wasn’t leaving._

_“Of course!” The king stretched his sore limbs, then stood up and walked over to his dresser. He opened one of the drawers and began to rummage around in his clothes, brow furrowing when the object he desired wasn’t in plain sight._

_Behind him he heard the soft padding of the young boy’s feet, and then the squeak of the bed as he sat down. When Ryan turned to face him, he was looking down at his hands, everything about his body language screaming anxiousness._

_Leaning against the dresser, the king casually asked, “So what brings you in here?”_

_“I actually, um.. I wanted to apologize. For what…happened.”_

_The incident the boy was referring to was the “accidental” killing of several of the king’s cows. Gavin had fed them the wrong food, causing them all to get sick and ultimately die._

_It truly wasn’t that big of a deal. Ryan already had servants purchasing more cows from the nearest farm, and they didn’t cost that much. It was an easy fix._

_But he had a lesson to teach._

_He turned back to the dresser, opening a different drawer and finding what he was looking for after minimal searching. He smiled to himself, then looked back at the boy._

_“It’s okay, Gavin. Accidents happen.”_

_“Are you sure?” The boy looked up at him, fear in his eyes, but also trust. “I.. I can go get more cows myself, I promise, I can.”_

_“That won’t be necessary.” Ryan closed the drawer, holding his hands behind his back. He took a couple steps closer to the boy, reaching out with one hand to gently comb his fingers through his hair. It was soft, feathery. Truly beautiful. “It’s already being taken care of. It’s not a problem.”_

_A rush of relieved breath came from Gavin’s lips. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned into his king’s touch. “Thank you.”_

_“Of course.” Ryan slowly stroked his favorite servant’s hair one last time, then brought the hand that was still behind his back around and into Gavin’s line of sight. He saw the boy’s eyes widen, his mouth open, a plead, a beg, a whine ready on his lips, but Ryan was faster than that. He swiftly slid the knife into the Brit’s stomach, twisting it around, making Gavin cry out in the softest, most pitiful way he’d ever heard. He made sure the blade was as far into the boy as it could go, then pulled it out. It was wet with his blood, the red liquid dripping off of it every few seconds._

_He watched as Gavin fell back and slumped at in an awkward position on his bed. His eyes fluttered shut, blood slowly oozed from his mouth, and his last few breaths were weak._

_Ryan just watched him for a few minutes, watched as his body paled and the blood from his plump lips dripped onto his bed._

_And he smiled._

* * *

 

Ryan’s eyes flashed open, his breaths coming in short bursts. His body was damp and slick with sweat, and his heart was pounding.

It had been a couple weeks since his last dream. In that one, Michael had been the unlucky victim, taking a slice to the throat just for letting one of _the king’s_ pigs loose.

He had thought he was done with them. Finally done with dreaming of the brutal deaths of his friends. Dreaming about being the one killing them.

The dreams had ruffled his usually calm and collected feathers. He’d tried to just ignore them the first couple months, but then the next couple months he just attempted to act natural around his friends. Only his boyfriend had noticed, the boy quietly asking, “Rye, are you okay?” after Michael had made a _Mad King Ryan_ joke that had hit him especially hard.

He’d considered going to a therapist. He’d been close to picking up the phone and dialing the number he found in the phone book. But every time he told himself not to, convinced himself that he could handle this.

Because secretly, there was a tiny part of him that was enjoying it.

* * *

 

It was a slow, yawn-filled day at Rooster Teeth. Everybody was drowsy and groggy, sluggishly moving through required actions and doing nothing more than they had to.

In the Achievement Hunter office, things weren’t much different. The men had recorded a Let’s Play earlier that morning, but now everybody was just lounging. Geoff and Gavin were bickering about what they were going to build next in Minecraft, Michael was rewatching an episode of Game of Thrones, Jack was organizing their collection of games, and Ryan and Ray were cuddling on the couch.

Ryan was lightly combing his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, and Ray was on his phone, scrolling through tumblr, quietly humming whenever Ryan’s fingers did something he really approved of. He had no idea what the boy was looking at, only that every couple of minutes a chuckle would shake his small body.

“Hey, Ryan, look at this,” Ray said, his voice quiet, just as the older man had decided to rest his eyes. He forced them open and looked at the phone that was being held up to his face. There was a drawing on the screen, a drawing of himself, with a crown on and sword in his hand. He had an evil smirk on his face, and his eyes looked to be darker than normal.

His most recent dream immediately popped into his head. In it he had stabbed his sword straight through Jack’s neck, blood absolutely pouring out of the wound. Ryan had woken up more flustered than usual, tears stinging his eyes until he rubbed them, forcing his eyes to clear and those emotions to be buried.

But now they were back, the same fear, confusion, sadness, and, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the enjoyment. He glanced over at Jack, the man looking concentrated in his organization.

He thought of ways he could create the same effect, right here in the office. What supplies did he have at his disposal? Pens, scissors, maybe he could go and search for an actual knife –

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to look away from Jack, his heart already quickening its pace. How could he think of that? Jack was one of his best friends, how could he imagine ways to _murder him_?

“Rye?” Ray had turned so he was facing him. “Are you okay?”

Everybody else in the room turned to look at them, the loudness of Ray’s voice catching their attention in the otherwise quiet room.

Ryan tried to keep his face looking calm and composed, not entirely sure of how successful he was. “Yeah, Ray, I’m fine.”

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Jack commented, looking back at the pile of games he had in front of him. Ryan just swallowed and didn’t say anything.

Ray frowned from below him and sat up a little, his phone screen finally turning off from being idle for too long. The drawing of the “Mad King” was gone, and Ryan found himself breathing a little easier. His eyes flickered to Ray’s concerned ones, and he smiled, his façade easier to pull off now.

“I’m okay, really.” He leaned down and kissed his boyfriend’s nose, then pulled away a little bit, so he could see the boy’s expression.

Ray was blushing, all traces of worry gone from his face. He moved closer to Ryan and pressed their lips against each other, his soft, wet tongue running along Ryan’s bottom lip, causing him to open his mouth to grant the boy further access. Ray immediately plundered in, unusually bold, but it just made Ryan more eager. He responded back immediately, pushing back against Ray so he could roam the young boy’s mouth. Before he could really do anything, he heard someone clear their throat from across the room, and he immediately pulled away, his face heating up.

Geoff was staring at them, his expression saying that he was not amused. “If I wanted to see two gay men suck face, I’d work in the porn industry.”

Ryan smirked a little. “Technically we’re bisexual.”

“I’m pansexual,” Ray said softly, and Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, causing the boy to relax against him.

Geoff looked less amused than before. “I wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass about your kissing if I wouldn’t have _heard_ it.”

Ryan felt his face heat up again, and Ray was beet red below him. Geoff just turned back to Gavin, the Brit looking at Michael and laughing silently to themselves.

The office quieted down again in the next couple minutes, and Ray turned his phone back on. Again, there was the drawing of the “Mad King,” and Ryan felt all the emotions that had been forgotten in the last few minutes rush back to him.

But then Ray just scrolled down, Ryan’s discomfort unknown to him, and there was a drawing of the two boys, the older with his arms wrapped around the younger’s waist. Ryan watched as Ray saved the picture to his phone, then exited out of tumblr and went through all the necessary steps to set the picture as his wallpaper. When he had, he turned his phone on and off, admiring his screen.

Ryan realized then that it was Ray that was truly going to be of the most help to him, and he hugged him tighter to his chest.


	2. Chapter Two

It slowly got worse.

Ryan tried to put it out of his mind, tried to throw himself so far into his work that when he got home he wouldn’t remember what had troubled him earlier that morning. It worked, for a little while. He in went early, stayed late. He’d be so tired when he got home that he immediately passed out, no time for speculation about anything.

But then he’d wake up the next morning, breath shuddering through his chest, the image of the latest murder imprinted behind his eyelids.

He was always hit with the same onslaught of emotions. Fear, horror, sadness. Tiny pinpricks of excitement and power always prodded at him, but he shoved those into a box in the back of his mind.

Nobody could know. Secrecy was always his first priority. If someone found out, they’d just be needlessly worried. Ryan didn’t want to have to convince someone else, along with himself, that he had a handle on this.

* * *

 

_“Do you know what you’ve done?”_

_“Yes, my king,” the man rasped, his voice weak and quiet. He was lying on a wooden table, his wrists and ankles shackled so he couldn’t even dream of escaping. “I know exactly what I’ve done. I’m so sorry.”_

_“Will it ever happen again?” Ryan asked, forcing back a smirk. As if he would ever let him go, after a crime of this magnitude._

_Geoff Ramsey had tried to start a rebellion. He’d gathered a group of his townspeople, a group of considerable size, and marched up to his castle, threatening to “overthrow” the king._

_Ryan had went down by himself, sending his guards away every time they tried to follow them. His best guard, a little ball of fire named Michael Jones, had not tried to come with him, but only advised him to keep the casualties to a minimum._

_His first thought was to immediately disregard him, but after some consideration, he thought it might be good to limit himself sometimes. He still needed people to rule, after all. He couldn’t kill them all._

_The “rebellion” on his doorstep had been easy to stop. The first person who charged at him, a man the king recognized to be named Joel Heyman, had gotten his sword slashed across his neck. The blood spilled from the man in such a beautiful, glorious way that for a second he forgot where he was, what he was doing. He felt power shake his whole body, exhilaration pumping through him with every beat of his heart._

_But then he had looked up from Joel’s lifeless body to see a crowd of wide eyed townspeople, and he remembered._

_The rest hadn’t been very hard. He challenged somebody else to come and try to defeat him, disappointed when nobody moved. He then called Michael down and together they dragged Geoff into the castle, the man’s face showing defiance, but his shaking body screaming fear._

_And now, they were here, Geoff whispering, “No, of course not, my king,” and Ryan smiling in anticipation._

_Even if the man was truthful now, he had still thought that he could beat him. Defeat him. Be a better ruler than the great King Ryan._

_Ryan grabbed his sword and brought it down upon Geoff’s neck, the man letting out a surprised, soft gasp, before his windpipe was filled with blood. The king had stopped himself from going all the way through, knowing from past experiences that decapitation just wasn’t quite as satisfying._

_Geoff coughed, blood spurting out of his mouth, some getting on himself, some getting on Ryan. The king just stood and watched, grinning to himself as the crimson liquid seeped out of his neck. After a few moments his eyes rolled back into his head, his body becoming still and quiet._

_Yes, this was definitely better than any decapitation._

* * *

 

“Ryan?”

The man looked up to be met with the worried eyes of his boss. Geoff was standing right in front of him, his hands on his desk so he could lean down a little. Ryan looked away from him, the contents of his stomach swirling around as he imagined blood gushing from Geoff’s pale neck. He mumbled a quiet, “m’fine,” then got up and tried not to run out of the room.

He sprinted into the bathroom, a part of his brain recognizing that there were other people in there, and that he _should_ wait until they left, but his body wasn’t listening. He stumbled into a stall, slamming the door shut behind him, and immediately vomited into the toilet below him.

The same thing had happened earlier that morning, after Ryan had woken up to the same exact scene. Geoff’s colorless body with bright red oozing from his mouth and neck. It had made him uneasy and tired, like the whole night of restful sleep he got was void.

So he had fallen asleep at his desk. He didn’t do it often, his job usually kept him awake and busy. But it had been lunchtime, so nobody was around. He’d declined Ray’s offer to go grab something, saying he had some project he needed to finish. It had seemed believable, so Ray had left with Michael and Gavin, the three Lads laughing as they walked out the door.

Ryan threw up again, remembering himself _wishing_ to see his boss’s decapitated head that morning. It had been a fleeting, unwanted thought, but he’d wished for it nonetheless.

He heard the stall door creak open behind him, and he was about to grunt out an “I’m fine, don’t worry,” when he heard a soft, “Rye?”

Ryan turned around to see Ray standing there, a soda can in one hand, nothing in the other. The boy looked so _concerned_ , almost to the point of being scared. He opened his mouth, about to say something else, but Ryan stood up and crushed their bodies together, causing Ray to drop his (thankfully unopened) soda.

“Ryan, what-” He was cut off by the older man pressing his face into his neck, breaths shaky and uneven, but stomach finally settling, now that he was in the warmth of his boy.

Ray just stroked his hair and rubbed small circles on his back, murmuring soothing things in his ear until he had calmed down enough.

When he finally took a step away from the boy, he was met once again with a worried face.

He sighed a little and ran a hand through his hair. “Um…it might be food poisoning. I puked this morning, too.”

“Why didn’t you stay home?”

He _had_ actually considered it. For a second, anyway. He thought of calling in, then being able to go back to bed. Snuggling up in his warm blankets and drifting off to sleep. But then he thought of dazing in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, his brain filled with images of murder and gore. His friends, dead. And all because of him.

So he had decided to come to work.

“I had a bunch of stuff I really had to get done today,” Ryan said. It was pretty much a lie. He could’ve done most of it at home. “And I wanted to see you.” That was the absolute truth.

Ray’s worried eyes softened, and he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. “Come on.” He leaned down to pick up his drink, then he gently pulled Ryan from the bathroom and into the hallway. He got strange looks from people, probably from his completely wrecked appearance. He felt drained and terrible, and whenever he would close his eyes, he saw Geoff’s lifeless corpse, painted in red.

Ryan was led back into the Achievement Hunter office, where the room was once again filled. Geoff and Gavin were sitting at their desks, and Michael and Jack were deep in conversation. Ray just pulled him onto the sofa, then climbed onto his lap and leaned his lead against his chest. Ryan wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head over and over, silently hoping that his dreams never starred Ray as his main victim, because so far, none of them had.


	3. Chapter Three

Ryan had made a mistake.

His boyfriend had come over the previous night, wanting to check up on him because he hadn’t gone to work that day. (After waking up and half consciously devising a plan to get a peek at Michael’s large intestines, Ryan had decided it was best if he stayed home.)

And he’d done exactly what he’d been afraid of. Lounge around all day, thoughts of murder and servants and kings swirling around in his head until he was half sick and half intrigued.

He had been playing Minecraft the next night, when Ray came over, which happened to be a Friday. Though he was definitely surprised, the older man was glad to see him and let him in right away.

They’d played games for the rest of the night, the younger boy filling Ryan in on all of the things he’d missed at work, which really wasn’t much. The night ended with them cuddling on Ryan’s couch, and, ultimately, falling asleep.

When Ryan woke up the next morning, the image of Gavin’s decapitated head had his blood racing, heart pounding, body shaking. He imagined walking into work, purpose in every step, going up to the scrawny British boy and grabbing him, pulling him into a supply closet. He’d pull a knife out of his pocket, tease him a little bit. Make him beg him. Make him whine his name until he _finally_ plunged the blade into his throat, a whimper forever stuck in it. He would leave him like that, blood running –

“Ryan?”

The older man snapped back into reality, his vision blurry, but as he blinked his boyfriend’s sleepy face came into view.

Ray was looking at him, his eyes half closed, glasses falling off his face. He took them off, rubbed his eyes, then put them back on, his eyes wider and the tiredness leaving them. When he really got a good look at Ryan, his brow furrowed, and concern masked his features.

Ryan didn’t know what he could possibly look like. His throat was closed up, his eyes were wide, his body still shaking.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. And it terrified him and thrilled him at the same time.

“What’s wrong, Rye?” Ray asked hesitantly, his voice quiet and slow.

Ryan wanted to tell him. He wanted to get it out in the open. He wanted his boyfriend to console him, tell him everything would be alright. Tell him he wasn’t a terrible person, a monster in the making, that he was still the same soft, cuddly Ryan. Who was only _slightly_ murderous.

But he couldn’t. Ray definitely wouldn’t see him in the same way, and he couldn’t lose him. He _wouldn’t_ lose him.

So Ryan just mumbled, “Nightmare,” and Ray _awwed_ and _cooed_ at him and kissed all over his scruffy, unshaven face, until his whole body felt fuzzy and warm and safe.

* * *

 

Ryan went into work that Monday.

He’d just been sitting in his house all weekend, thinking about the dreams, his reactions to them, everything. And by the time Monday came around, he was really ready to stop rolling around in his own shit.

So he went to work.

In the office, he was surrounded by friendly smiles and warm faces. Cordial, sympathetic words were thrown at him, all mostly being variations of “Glad you feel better!” and “Good to see you!”

He let the phrases bounce right off of him. He felt completely undeserving of their kindness. He’d imagined killing at least half of them, and now they were offering him condolences? It didn’t seem right. They should be running, screaming, calling the police. Calling a mental ward to come and pick him up. Something besides this. _Anything_ besides this.

Ryan ended up half running to the Achievement Hunter office. Everybody else was already there, and they all looked just as pleased to see him. He knew his friends had been worried about him, Ray told him they had. Ryan was usually a reasonably healthy guy, and sick days weren’t common for him. So two of them in a row _could_ be worrisome…

Ray was the only person without headphones on, so he immediately turned around to look at Ryan when he opened the door. His face was bright, happy. He was happy to see _him._ Happy to see someone who was slowly going insane.

Ryan forced a smile, trying to keep up the façade that he was perfectly fine, but he could feel that it was off. Still, Ray didn’t look _too_ concerned, so he figured he must look better than he felt.

Ray opened his mouth, his voice about to fill Ryan’s ears, when Gavin, from across the room, said, “Hey, Ryan’s back!”

The remaining Achievement Hunters looked at Gavin, then over at Ryan, waving and mumbling “hello.” They then looked back towards their computer screens, all three of them deeply concentrated on their work.

Gavin, however, was not. The scrawny Brit got up and pranced over to them, a grin on his face. “How you feelin’, you cheeky bastard?”

Ryan forced a polite smile. “Better, thanks.”

“Of course you would get to talk to my boyfriend before I do,” Ray interrupted, looking pointedly at Gavin. “Why don’t you talk to _your_ boyfriend?”

Gavin’s face fell into a pout. “He doesn’t wanna.”

Geoff sighed at his seat. “Gav, I’m just _busy_. I’m sorry I can’t talk right now.”

Ryan felt himself smirk a little bit, _really_ smirk. Geoff and Gavin were a relatively new couple, but they were cute together. Ray had been upset when they first announced it, because then he and Ryan would be “old news,” but Ryan didn’t mind that at all.

Gavin just continued pouting, and when Geoff turned around to look at him, he sighed again and got up, walking over to the young Brit. He took his face in his hands and kissed him, a kind of intense, intimate kiss that Ryan would never dare give Ray anywhere besides the confines of his bedroom.

But that was just Ryan. Geoff and Gavin were obviously a different kind of couple than he and Ray.

The two pulled away from each other, Gavin looking dazed, Geoff looking smug, and then the older man sat back down in his seat, resuming his work like he’d never been disturbed. Gavin went back over to his desk, not saying another word.

Ryan looked down at Ray, who was already looking at him. They locked eyes for a moment, until Ryan bent down and kissed the boy’s nose, then went over to his own desk and sat down.

He honestly wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be doing. He knew he had work, he _always_ had work, but over the past few days his mind had just been so…preoccupied. Preoccupied with savage murder, but still, preoccupied nonetheless.

He ended up stumbling upon a video he was half finished editing, and worked on that until lunchtime, where, as usual, he was invited out by Ray. He said no, which was also starting to become the usual, and Ray left him to go out with Geoff, Jack, and Michael, only looking slightly sad.

After everything quieted down, Ryan noticed that it was only he and Gavin left in the room. The boy looked to be completely absorbed by his work, so Ryan decided to just leave him to it and not disturb him.

About twenty minutes into lunchtime, his eyes started to droop, and he found that he couldn’t focus on anything for too long. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up, but every couple of minutes he would just get tired again.

Maybe if he just rested his eyes for a _little_. Gavin would surely wake him up before he could start dreaming, right? The onset of exhaustion and fatigue swirled around in his brain, making his decision very easy.

He pushed his keyboard to the back of his desk, then rested his head on his arms, closing his eyes.

This would be good for him. A mid-day nap to keep him going. He had just been _sick_ , after all…well that’s what everyone thought, at least.

* * *

 

_“Oh god, oh yes, oh yes, yes, Ryan, Ryan, yes!”_

_The king smiled to himself, even as he continued his current activity. Which happened to be his newest slave, a British boy named Gavin. As soon as he’d heard him speak, he’d imagined two things: what his lovely voice would sound like screaming Ryan’s name as he came, and what his delectable British tone would sound like screaming for help as he slaughtered him._

_It turns out Gavin’s mid-orgasm screams were better than expected._

_The boy came in Ryan’s powerful hand, the king making sure to milk out every last drop the Brit had. He figured it was the least he could do._

_Gavin reached up and pulled Ryan into a wet, sloppy kiss while simultaneously clenching himself around the king, causing a strangled moan to leave his lips. The boy didn’t let up, and soon Ryan was groaning softly as he tipped over the edge and spilled his seed deep inside of him. Only then did Gavin stop, relaxing his muscles and letting Ryan pull himself out of him._

_The air was cold, refreshing, and it cleared his mind of the fuck haze that had taken over it._

_Ryan stood up from the bed and walked over to his dresser, immediately grabbing his knife from his shirt drawer. When he turned back around, Gavin was just lying there, eyes closed, an expression of post coital bliss on his face._

_The king smiled. It did please him, seeing what he and his cock could do, since he didn’t get to use those set of skills too often. This was unfortunately a rarity for him, but one that he wasn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon._

_Gavin slowly opened his eyes after a few minutes, first looking at Ryan’s face, then moving down to look at the knife in his hand._

_The boy looked back up at him, immediately alarmed. “Ryan, King, I…what are you doing with that?”_

_Ryan smirked and climbed back onto the boy, so he was straddling his small frame. “Haven’t you heard anything about me?”_

_Gavin just shook his head._

_“I have the small habit of committing murder every once in a while.” Before the boy could respond, Ryan shoved the knife straight into his throat, a small cry escaping the Brit’s lips before his windpipe was filled with blood. He just stared at Ryan for a moment, terror in his dying eyes, then started coughing. They were wet, violent coughs, blood coming up with them sooner than later. After a couple minutes, the wine colored liquid running out of both Gavin’s mouth and the wound in his neck, the boy was only gasping and wheezing, his eyes drooping, the life leaving his body._

_And Ryan just watched him. his cold, hungry eyes taking it all in. It had been so long since he killed… He knew his guards could tell he was getting antsy. Maybe that’s why they had arranged for Gavin to come work for him. Maybe he would have to thank them._

_Ryan focused his eyes back on Gavin, seeing the boy wheeze for the last time, then becoming silent. His eyes were glazed over and looking at nothing in particular, and his mouth was open, blood still slowly dripping out. His neck was a beautiful mess of red, it dripping down the sides and onto the bedspread. The king knew he would have to get that cleaned, if he wanted any visitors at all in his room, but he’d leave it for now._

_In fact, he’d leaving everything how it was for now. Gavin’s body wasn’t stiff yet, wouldn’t be for a few hours… Ryan could have some more fun._

* * *

 

Ryan jerked awake, breathing heavily, the image of Gavin’s dead body all he could see, all he could think about. He tried to focus his mind, figure out where he was, what was going on, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins, making him shake with the power of it. The small, logical part of his brain was screaming for him to calm down, but-

“Ryan?”

The older man turned to look at who had spoken to him, and his eyes widened when he saw that it was Gavin, standing a few feet away from him, looking cautious. He was alive, unharmed, looking very well, actually.

He stepped closer to Ryan, and now the worry in his eyes was visible. “Are you alright?”

Gavin wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, there wasn’t blood _everywhere_ ; he was _alright_.

Something surged through him, making him _want_ the ruby mess again, _want_ to hear Gavin’s pitiful cries and whimpers, _want_ him _dead_.

Ryan quickly scanned the room, finding the tool he wanted almost immediately. He smiled up at Gavin, who was looking even more worried now, then turned back around, at his desk.

“I’m fine, Gav,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “Just had a _great_ dream.”

He grabbed the scissors he kept on his desk, then turned back around to face the Brit, who now looked very confused.

“I, uh, I guess that’s good…” He started to back up towards his desk, a little bit of fear seeping into his expression. “I’m gonna continue my work now…”

Ryan chuckled softly as he stood up, the scissors still in his grasp. “No, Gav. I don’t think you will.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a question that Ryan was definitely not going to let him ask.

He rushed forward, bringing the scissors up and forcefully stabbing them into Gavin’s throat. The Brit cried out a little, then fell over, the only noises coming out of him now being strangled gurgling sounds, blood filling up his windpipe too fast for him to say anything. But he was still staring at Ryan, a horrified expression on his face, panic in his eyes, as he coughed and spurted blood everywhere.

Ryan just watched, watched as he recreated the scene in his dream, his mind happy and sated. He walked over to Gavin and kneeled down next to him, pulling the scissors out of his throat then tossing them onto the floor next to him. The boy was fighting to keep his eyes open now, and after a couple seconds they closed, and he gave one last cough before he went silent.

As Ryan watched him, the haze that was over his mind started to clear. Terror and horror started to poke and prod at his mind, and soon what he had just done started to become _very_ clear.

He had just killed someone.

Ryan quickly stood up, backing away from Gavin’s corpse, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He had just killed one of his friends.

His vision started to get unfocused, dizziness and nausea taking over his body.

He had just killed one of his _best friends_.

Ryan Haywood was a murderer.


	4. Chapter Four

Ryan was about to throw up.

He was staring at Gavin’s lifeless body, the color already leaving it. The blood was drying, but Ryan could still smell it. It was assaulting his senses, making him want to pass out and cry and vomit all at the same time.

He felt bile rush up his throat but he pushed it back down, not wanting to do _anything_ else to Gavin; he’d already done enough. He’d done more than enough. He’d taken a _scissors_ and stabbed him in the _neck_. What kind of human being was he?

Nausea churned in his stomach, and he knew that if he didn’t get to a bathroom now, he’d have to use the trash can in the Achievement Hunter office. And he didn’t wanna do _anything_ else to the room.

An _extreme_ surge of nausea went through him, and he sprinted out of the room, luckily not a lot of people in his way.

Until he slammed right into Ray, causing them both to fall over.

“Whoa, Rye!” Ray laughed, smiling, until he saw Ryan’s panicked face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Ryan turned around to see Geoff and the others walking right past them, right towards the Achievement Hunter office.

“No!” He scrambled to his feet and ran after them, tears starting to spill from his eyes, making his vision blurry. “No, no, no, don’t, please, go back, go b-back!”

The three of them turned around and their eyes widened when they saw Ryan, standing in front of them, shaking and sobbing.

“What happened?” Geoff asked. Something seemed to click in his mind, and his expression turned alarmed. “Is Gav okay?”

Before Ryan could say anything, Michael was turning around and running into the room, screaming, “Gav!” Geoff and Jack quickly followed him, and Ryan’s stomach dropped, knowing exactly what they were going to find.

Sure enough, after a couple seconds, there were choruses of “Oh my god!” and “No!” and “Gav _no_!”

Ryan turned to Ray, who looked scared and worried, and the older man could do nothing but break down.

He sunk to the floor, his sobs shaking his entire body, and curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. He heard Ray’s footsteps run past him, then the boy’s gasp as he saw Gavin’s corpse. He expected his boyfriend to stay in there, stare and gawk like the rest of them, but he heard him come back out of the office. Soon he felt the boy’s arms circling around him, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

Ryan looked up at him, Ray’s eyes red and tears rolling down his cheeks, but he was still gazing at the older man with an intense stare.

“W-What…what happened, Rye?” he whispered, brown eyes big and wide behind his glasses. “Who _did_ that?”

Ryan closed his eyes, clamping his mouth shut. His mind was screaming. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to admit the truth. He didn’t want to lie to Ray. But he _had_ to. He had to! He couldn’t go to _jail_. What would his family think? What would the fans think? What would _Ray_ think?

He wanted to believe, in all of his heart, that Ray would forgive him if he told him that he killed Gavin. But somewhere deep in his brain, in his logical brain, he _knew_ that would never happen. Ray would see him as a murderer for the rest of their lives.

And Ryan couldn’t have that. He _wouldn’t_ have that.

So he opened his eyes, then looked away from Ray and said, “I…I don’t know. I had just gone to get a snack, I…I came back in and he was just…” Ryan forced more tears out of his eyes – although they _were_ real, weren’t they? – and pressed his face into Ray’s chest, the boy responding immediately. He tightened his arms around him, then moved one of them to stroke his hair.

And they just sat like that, curled around each other on the ground, both of them crying quietly, while in the actual office Geoff was hysterically talking to a police officer on the phone.

* * *

 

_“Gavin, you fuck! Why did you set my chickens on fire?!”Michael raged, the rest of the group snickering quietly to themselves._

_“I was hungry,” the Brit said, defending himself. “Look, I have cooked chicken now!”_

_Gavin’s creeper character ran around, collecting his newly made meal, while Michael was silent, watching him. Nobody else said anything, waiting to see how this would play out._

_Sure enough, a couple seconds after Gavin started eating the chicken, Michael pulled out his diamond sword and killed him, making the man squawk and loudly yell “Micool!”_

_The rest of the room burst into laughter, Geoff’s the loudest, and after a minute or so everyone was quiet again, getting back to the task at hand, which was gathering resources to create another building in extended Achievement City._

_After a little while of relative silence, only a few conversations popping up here and there, Gavin made a strange, quiet gurgling noise. Nobody really paid him any attention; they were all used to Gavin’s strange noises. After a second one though, Michael chuckled a little._

_“Gav, you ok-OH MY GOD!”_

_Everybody turned to look at once, and what they all saw was terrifying._

_Gavin was sitting in his chair, like normal, except now there was a slowly growing hole on his neck. Blood was pouring out of it, and the wound itself was rough and jagged, and it was only getting bigger. The Brit made another gurgling sound, this time spitting up a little bit of blood along with it._

_This caused Geoff to move. “No, Gavin, baby!” He stood up and practically sprinted over to the slowly dying boy, cupping his face in his hands. “Gav, stay with me, you’re gonna be fine, I promise.”_

_Gavin started coughing then, blood spurting out of his mouth, hitting Geoff in the face. The older man seemed unaffected, his eyes locked onto the Brit’s and never wavering. Beside them, Michael was calling 911, his voice laced with panic at he tried to explain what had happened without seeming crazy. The rest of the group just stared, bodies shaking with fear and horror._

_Gavin began violently coughing, the blood grotesquely splattering all over Geoff’s shirt, and then he started making wheezing sounds. They got quieter as time went on, and soon the boy was silent, the entire room following suit._

_And then Geoff starting sobbing, pressing his face into his lover’s chest, shaking him and yelling, “Wake up!”_

* * *

 

Ryan’s eyes flashed open, his breathing uneven, chest heaving.

Well, that was…new.


	5. Chapter Five

The weeks following Gavin’s death were…stressful. To say the least.

Rooster Teeth as a whole was finding it difficult to get back into the swing of things. Everything was more quiet than usual, more muted. Achievement Hunter was on an official video break, posting only the ones they had already filmed and edited. Nobody could bear to sit through an editing session, listening to Gavin’s jovial chatter. And every time they sat down to do a Let’s Play, it just seemed too quiet, Gavin’s absence _too_ noticeable.

Geoff was distancing himself from everyone. Drinking a lot more, sometimes just not even coming into work. Jack said he just needed to mourn, but Michael and Ray were still worried.

And Ryan…Ryan took it harder than everybody.

The older man knew that he was being suspicious, having not really shown such a wide range of emotions at work before. Usually he was just friendly (at least in his mind), having proper and acceptable work etiquette. As _proper_ as a job at Rooster Teeth required. And sure, he got angry, but it was still nothing compared to Michael.

Now his emotions were all over the place. He was overridden with guilt, knowing that everyone’s sadness was _his_ fault. That _he_ did this. He knew that Geoff’s depression was because of him. That Michael’s irritability, which covered up his sadness, was because _he_ stabbed a scissors in Gavin’s throat. Ray thought Ryan’s distress was because he blamed himself for what happened. Because he had “gone to get a snack” when Gavin was attacked. Because he hadn’t been there to stop whoever the killer was. And Ryan had just nodded and broke down when Ray told him that, because it was close enough to the truth, as close as he would dare to get.

But he wanted to tell him. Oh, he _wanted_ to confess. He’d had so many chances, so many opportunities. And yet, he’d still lie. He’d lie and cry and _swear_ he didn’t do it, and people believed him. And inside he hated it. He wanted to think he was a good person. He had always thought he was before. And a good person would confess, right? A good person would admit to the crime and take whatever punishment came their way. But Ryan just _couldn’t_. There was a part of his mind that overrode his morality, and before he could stop it, a lie was slipping off his tongue. An effortless, easy lie.

And he had fooled _everybody_.

* * *

 

_It was three days after Gavin’s death._

_Ryan was at the Austin Police Department Precinct, waiting to be questioned about the events of the previous Monday. He was, of course, a suspect, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet. His alibi, which was definitely not rock solid and had no evidence to support it (and was also a lie), hadn’t checked out, along with a few other people at Rooster Teeth. The rest of the workers had either been out at lunch, or had been doing something on a computer and had a time stamped file to prove it._

_However, as far as he knew, he was the main suspect, having been “conveniently getting some chips” during the time Gavin was killed, as he overheard one police officer put it._

_He figured his chances weren’t good._

_Ryan hadn’t decided what he was going to do yet. It had only been 72 hours since Gavin’s heart stopped beating, but the older man already felt the crushing weight of guilt on his mind. He felt like as soon as a police officer stepped through the door he’d be done for, that a confession would be tumbling out of his mouth before they could even greet each other._

_And he was so, so afraid._

_He sat for another couple minutes just staring at his slightly shaking hands and trying to get them to still. When the door finally opened, he looked up to see a woman in very casual clothing, her black hair in a ponytail, dark rimmed glasses shielding her eyes from him._

_Ryan had a fleeting thought that she looked like a female Ray, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think of Ray when this woman started accusing him of murdering one of his best friends._

_Even though he did._

_“Hello, Mr. Haywood,” she said, not unkindly, and she shut the door then sat down across from him. “My name is Detective Lisa Smith. I’m just going to ask you a few questions, then you’re free to go.”_

_At least they weren’t holding him. “Okay.”_

_“How did you know Gavin Free?”_

_The question shocked him and stung him at the same time. Shocked, because he had been immediately expecting “Did you kill Gavin Free?” Stung, because it hurt to have someone say “did” instead of “do.”_

_But that was because of him. So he had to death with it._

_“He was one of my coworkers,” Ryan answered, his voice surprisingly steady and calm. “At Rooster Teeth.”_

_Lisa nodded, looking down at the file she had brought in with her. “Yes, Rooster Teeth…big company, wouldn’t you say?”_

_“Yes, I would.” It_ was _a large company. He didn’t know why she was mentioning its size though. Why wasn’t she accusing him already?_

_“Can you think of anybody who had a problem with Mr. Free?” Lisa looked up at him, her eyes blue behind her glasses._

_Really, everybody had some sort of problem with Gavin. He was an annoying little shit, always asking stupid questions and sputtering out random British lingo. But even so, everyone loved him. Including Ryan._

_“No,” he said. “Nobody had enough of a problem with him to…” He couldn’t make his mouth form the word. Guilt was pressing down on his brain, and he wondered if Lisa could see it in his eyes. She had the training to detect lies, see guilt when it would shine through in people’s eyes, see the mannerisms that a normal person wouldn’t catch._

_Could she see through everything Ryan was saying?_

_Lisa nodded again, looking back down at the file. “So you were getting a snack when Mr. Free was attacked.”_

_“Yes.” It was the first thing he’d thought of, when he’d been crying in Ray’s arms. It may not have been the best lie, but he couldn’t change it now._

_“Did you see anyone go in or come out of the office he was in?”_

_Ryan had a good idea of who was in the building when he killed Gavin. He could just pick a random name and say it, let them deal with the accusations and interrogations. But he wouldn’t do that. He cared about everyone at Rooster Teeth. He didn’t want one of them to possibly go to jail just because he was so intent on saving his own ass._

_So he said, “No.”_

_Lisa sighed and took off her glasses, laying them next to the file. She rubbed her hands over her face, then looked at Ryan. “Everything is pointing to you, Mr. Haywood. Do you realize that?”_

_He did. “I…yes, I…I guess I do.”_

_“Not only were you the closest to Mr. Free when he died, your finger prints were found on the weapon used.”_

_The scissors._

_He’d completely forgotten about those._

_His mind raced, self preservation taking over, trying to find a reason for his finger prints to be on them._

_“They…they’re my scissors. They were on my desk, before…” Before they were in Gavin’s neck. “I use them a lot. That’s why my finger prints are on them.” Ryan just stared at her for a second, before adding, “I didn’t kill him.”_

_Lisa didn’t look convinced. “Why am I supposed to believe you?”_

_“Gavin was one of my best friends.” Tears stung at his eyes, and he didn’t stop them from falling. “I could_ never _do that to one of my best friends.”_

_He knew it was probably an argument that she’d heard before, and a weak one at that. But he hoped he sounded convincing, even though all of it was a lie._

_Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose, then closed the file. “We interviewed your colleagues.”_

_Ryan nodded a little. He already knew this._

_“They seemed offended at even the notion of you killing Mr. Free.” She put her glasses back on. “Your partner, Mr. Narvaez…”_

_This caught Ryan’s attention. He hadn’t known she meant_ those _coworkers._

_“He told us that you couldn’t have possibly done it. The other three told us much the same.” She licked her lips, looking somewhere beyond him. Then her eyes refocused. “Your record is clean. Not even so much as a speeding ticket.”_

_Ryan held his breath. She couldn’t possibly believe him. He was lying. He was a murderer. She was supposed to see right through his façade. It was her job to see through it._

_“You’re free to go, Mr. Haywood.” With that, she stood up, picked up the file, then walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind her._

_Ryan just stared at the door, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open._

_He’d just successfully evaded the police. And he didn’t even think he’d done that good of a job at it._

_He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that._


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, I haven't updated this in a disgustingly long amount of time. Oops. Sorry about that! I can't promise that it won't happen again, because sometimes I go into spells where I'm just not in the mood to write, but I'll really try to update more quickly!  
> Enjoy! ^_^

It was four months after Ryan murdered Gavin.

The police had given up their investigation about two months prior. They’d told Geoff that there just wasn’t enough evidence, and that nothing new was turning up, so they couldn’t do anything more. Ryan was pretty sure the man had argued with them, at least a little, before relenting.

Overall, however, the team of (now) five was doing a lot better. They were making videos again. They were laughing again. Obviously they hadn’t forgotten about the scrawny Brit, but it was easier now than it had been.

It was easier for Ryan, too.

The guilt had lessened over time. It should probably trouble him that it had, and in some lesser, ignored part of his psyche, it did. There was a part of his mind (a small part, if he would admit it to himself) that still was overridden with guilt, that if he let it out, he would be the man he was those four months ago. The man standing in front of his friend’s dead body, horror on his face and terror in his heart.

He couldn’t let himself do that. Couldn’t let himself be that. His prolonged sadness had already been suspicious, or at least it had been to him, him and his paranoid mind.

Apparently, though, Ryan’s miraculous recovery from his intense grieving had been more suspicious than the grieving itself. The Gent noticed Ray’s worried glances, the concern in his eyes when Gavin would be mentioned and Ryan wouldn’t even flinch.

He had gone straight from being a sobbing, guilty mess, to his normal self, cool and collected.

Thinking back on it, he decided he probably should have made his transition more…fluid.

* * *

 

_Ryan was having a bad day._

_His newest interest – a sheep herder named Gavin – had “accidentally” been killed by his_ last _interest – a farmer named Dan._

_Under normal circumstances, it would have pleased the king. Anybody with the capacity to murder was useful to him. But Dan had not admitted to the murder directly, claiming it an accident. And his victim had also been Gavin._

_So it was just more of an annoyance than something he could enjoy._

_Dan was already dead; Ryan had hunted him down and slaughtered him, being so quick with his sword that the man hadn’t even had time to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. He was definitely not a problem anymore._

_Ryan was just restless. Dan’s death hadn’t satisfied him. He had been too angry, too deep in his rage to take it slow. To torture the man. To make him either beg and whine for his life, or plead and whimper for death._

_And that left him unsettled, pacing in his room. He couldn’t decide how to spend the rest of his day. He had planned to try and get Gavin into bed with him, which would’ve been easy, considering he was the king. But now he felt irritated and bored, and it was when he was bored that he started killing just to pass the time._

_The only thing stopping him was Michael, his favorite guard. He was quite possibly the only person the king trusted, and he had told him to hold off on murdering, at least for a little while._

_And so he had. Except for Dan. But that was a special circumstance, obviously._

_Suddenly, there was a quiet knock on the king’s bedroom door, and before Ryan could even answer, one of the men on his council, Jack, stepped into his room._

_Jack was a kind man, almost too soft for the sort of work Ryan had him do. But he was strategic, which had served both the king and his kingdom well._

_But Ryan was so,_ so _bored._

_“Hello, Jack,” he said warmly, forcing his demeanor to be light and friendly. “Come in, won’t you?”_

_Jack watched him for a few seconds, and Ryan could see the wariness in his eyes. But he walked further into the room anyway, shutting the door behind him._

_“My king,” he started, and the title made Ryan smile, “it seems the town is in a state of unrest, after Daniel Gruchy’s…”_

_“Slaughtering,” Ryan happily supplied for him. “Yes, well, I was in a state of unrest when Gavin Free was murdered.”_

_Jack nodded a little, looking uncomfortable, but he pressed on. “I think it would be best if you made an announcement to the people, telling them not to be afraid.”_

_The king wandered over to his dresser and opened a drawer, his mind idly scanning the items he was seeing. “Why would I want to do that?”_

_“People will start fleeing the village,” Jack said, a small tinge of nervousness in his voice. “Putting their fears to rest would make them stay.”_

_“I believe it is quite the contrary.” Ryan’s hand grasped the object he was looking for, and he turned around to face his councilman. “I will kill the first person who attempts to leave, and then they’ll be too afraid to even try.”_

_Jack opened his mouth, about to say something, but Ryan wasn’t going to wait to hear it. He quickly moved so he was behind the man, then, before he could turn around, wrapped the rope he had grabbed from his drawer around his neck. Jack struggled, trying to twist himself around so he was facing the king, then just wildly tried to punch him._

_But Ryan was too strong. Recreational killing was an excellent form of exercise._

_Ryan tightened the rope around Jack’s neck, and soon he stopped struggling, his body going limp against the king. He let him drop to the floor, a part of his mind having considered killing him, but ultimately deciding against it. He was bored, and having just another corpse in his room wasn’t going to help that._

_Oh, no, he was going to have some fun with this one._

_He was going to make it last._

* * *

 

Ryan opened his eyes, his breathing heavy and shaky. He could feel that his body was slick with sweat, and that his heart was pounding in his chest at nearly a mile a minute. Images of Jack, unconscious at his feet, swirled around his brain, and tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall.

For some reason, he’d thought that the nightmares would stop once he accepted Gavin’s death. That he’d finally be free of them, that he could get on with the rest of his life. That he could try and leave this behind him.

He very quickly realized that that was a stupid thing to think.

After a few minutes, his breathing had calmed down, so Ryan slowly stood up from his couch, his back protesting the movement with an aching pain. It was only 7:30 (in the evening), he realized, after glancing at a clock, and he figured that he must have fallen asleep while watching TV.

He stretched a little, then stumbled to the bathroom, and once he was in there, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

The first thing he noticed, and the most obvious thing, was that he was tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the usually intense blue of his eyes just looked…duller, somehow. His hair was a mess, and his beard was longer than he normally kept it.

He wondered if anyone would believe him if he said that his wrecked appearance was because of dreams.

Someone probably would. Ray probably would.

He then wondered if anyone would believe him if he said that he killed someone because of the previously mentioned dreams.

Probably not.

Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was still tired; he could feel exhaustion weighing down on his mind, and it felt like every biological process in his body was moving at a terribly slow, sluggish speed.

But since going to bed _obviously_ wasn’t an option, and he hadn’t found a sleeping aid that knocked him out thoroughly enough, he was stuck with equally wanting to do something and wanting to curl up into a ball in the corner.

He thought about calling Ray, inviting him over to play Xbox or just simply sit and talk, but decided against it. He needed time to try and forget about his most recent dream, time to lock it away in the box in his mind that he had lovingly labeled _my fucked up dreams_. The box was getting full, though; he wasn’t sure what would happen when it overflowed.

An image of Jack lying unconscious on his floor with a rope around his neck flashed in Ryan’s mind, and he felt like he was suffocating.

 _Air,_ he thought. _I need air_.

So he walked out of the bathroom, pulled on a sweatshirt and slipped on his shoes, and then he was out of his apartment. The late night breeze cleared his head, wiped his mind, and he felt some semblance of normalcy.

He took a deep breath, and then his legs were moving, carrying him down the street, towards nowhere in particular. After a couple minutes, he decided to go to the drugstore, see if he could find a stronger sleeping pill, one that would make him so deeply unconscious that the dreams didn’t even have a chance of reaching him.

It was around 8:00 now, and the chill of the late November air meant that not a lot of people were out walking around. Ryan didn’t mind, though. Crowded, bustling streets were really _not_ what he needed.

He could finally see the drugstore in the distance, and he picked up his pace, the cold actually starting to get to him. There was a girl walking towards him, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, and as she got closer, he could see her eyes widen and brighten.

“Ryan…” She breathed out his name like it was sacred. “Ryan _Haywood_?”

They were stopped in the middle of the sidewalk now, and Ryan forced himself to smile a little, although he could feel that it was off, uneasy. “Uh, hi?”

“You’re from Achievement Hunter!” Only now, that he realized she was a fan, did he see her bright green AH hoodie. “Oh my god, I love you guys!”

He made himself smile more, and his face started to hurt. “Thanks. It’s always great to meet fans.”

The girl grinned and looked so excited that Ryan was afraid she’d implode. “I’ve never met a celebrity before. Oh my god I have to tweet about this.”

On a normal day (if any of his days were ever normal anymore), he’d be a little more patient, a little more friendly. But tonight he was tired, and stressed, and he just wanted to get his sleeping pills and go home.

Ryan watched as the girl pulled out her phone and began to furiously text, and he cleared his throat a little, causing her to look up at him. “It was really nice to meet you, but I’m afraid I have to be going now.” He forced another smile.

She looked heartbroken. “Oh, that’s okay, it’s really okay.” She paused, and the silence was awkward. “Can I get a picture with you, though? If that’s okay?” He wanted to decline, because he honestly looked like shit, but she looked so _hopeful_.

If she _really_ wanted a picture with a murderer…

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” He walked next to her, and watched as she closed out apps on her phone, including Twitter.

“My friends won’t believe this,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “I met Ryan Haywood, the _mad king_ …”

Ryan felt himself stiffen, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. _The mad king_.

The girl was still rambling on. “When you were all _Edgar is the one in the hole_ , I totally lost it. Really hilarious.”

He could see himself killing Michael, for letting his pigs go. Slaughtering Geoff, for trying to start a revolution. Murdering Dan for being a killer himself. Strangling Jack because he was _bored_.

And then he felt the scissors in his hand.

He had felt so _powerful_ that day. Watching Gavin die, watching the life seep out of him one lovely, red drip at a time…and knowing _he_ did it. He had been craving that feeling, craving it ever since Gavin’s heart stopped beating, that _fantastic_ day four months ago.

He wanted to feel it again. He needed to feel it again. _He was going to feel it again._

His brain refocused on the girl next to him, who finally had opened her camera app, and was just about to take a picture.

 _Evidence_ , something in his mind whispered to him, and then he was gone.

Ryan knocked the phone out of the girl’s hand, watching it crash to the ground and shatter. He noted the extremely pissed off look on her face, and then pushed her against the wall of a nearby building, making sure his sweatshirt was covering his hands, his fingertips.

_No evidence._

She started to scream, and the beginning of it bubbled up her throat and came out in a tiny noise. And even though he would have loved to hear her scream and scream and scream, he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not this one.

Ryan shoved her chest, making all the air leave her lungs, and then he wrapped his hands around her throat, again making sure that there were no fingerprints left on her. He tightened his hands, watched her face turn red and her breaths become gasps, wheezes, small tiny pleads of _stop_ and _please_. He watched the life leave her body, and he felt so _alive_. He felt more alive than he could ever remember. This feeling – this. This is what he craved, this is what he wanted.

The girl’s eyes were drooping, and then they closed, and she was unconscious. But Ryan didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He continued, even tightening his hands, until she couldn’t breathe at all. Until she _wasn’t_ breathing at all.

Until she was dead.


End file.
